


Liminal places

by theleftboobgrabber



Series: Tumblr fics [12]
Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst, Canon Compliant, Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Hopeful Ending, Jealous Eddie Diaz, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Self-Esteem Issues, They're both messes, baggages and baggages, but angsty, coping with poor humor, post 3x18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24972520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleftboobgrabber/pseuds/theleftboobgrabber
Summary: After the train and Abby, Eddie cannot let go of Buck.“You’re impossible,” Eddie growls. He is. “And we’re not done talking about that stun you pulled on the train. What am I supposed to do if you freaking die on me?”This is the heart of the problem. Eddie… Eddie would be heartbroken if Buck was to date someone, but he could take it. But losing Buck completely? No. just… no.Buck swallows around the bit of omelet he was chewing on without enthusiasm. Again, he throws Eddie completely off. “The English teacher, obviously.” He says it like it’s a done thing really, already pissed off by it.And that- that enrages Eddie to no end. “Fuck you.”
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Series: Tumblr fics [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/446650
Comments: 59
Kudos: 633





	Liminal places

**Author's Note:**

> prompt was _Buck and Eddie have it out after the train crash. It felt very unfinished for me_ 🤔

“What’s next?” Buck says it as emotionlessly as possible, but Eddie’s no fool. 

He lets Buck have it for the moment. They wasted enough time already with this goddamn Abby drama. There’s still so much to do, so many people to take out of the crashed train and their fair share of bodies to tag.

_What’s next. Yep. That’s the spirit. Hand it all away and continue. Onwards and fucking upwards._

***

It takes them hours and when backup arrives around dawn, they’re still elbows deep in the wreckage, nowhere close to done. The 118 is as dead on their feet as any of the bodies around here, and Eddie near weeps when he gets in the ladder truck and sits his ass down. He straps in and takes off his helmet, letting out a deep sigh of relief rushing out of him as whoever’s manning the wheel drive off. 

Across from him, Buck’s eyes are... empty. Could be the high body count, the fatigue of the day, or… Abby. 

Eddie has to force his jaw to relax, or he’ll be breaking his own teeth by the end of the drive.

He doesn’t press. Not yet. Chim and Hen aren’t there, riding the bus, but Bobby’s always paying attention when Buck’s concerned. Going by the argument in the train car, it’s better not to start a conversation with Buck when Cap’s around or it will be derailed.

Eddie contents himself with pushing his booted feet gently against Buck’s shin to catch his attention. Buck looks at him after a few worrying seconds, exhausted, and Eddie gives him what he hopes is a decent _I’m here for you_.

To his surprise, Buck smiles back. It’s a little blurry around the edges, a little weak, not even close to his usual grins, but Eddie will take it.

Beggars can’t be choosers.

***

“Bye guys,” Buck says at large, voice barely audible.

He exits the locker room and Eddie stops pretending to be fiddling with his laces, jumps to his feet, and follows him out.

“Subtle,” Chimney coughs as Eddie passes him.

He doesn’t even try to deny it or defend himself. _Subtlety can go fuck itself right now._

The second they’re out of the station, Eddie runs to Buck to catch up with his stupidly long legs and claps his hand on his left forearm.

Buck yelps in surprise, turning to Eddie quizzically, “Uh did I for-”

Eddie shakes his head. “You’re coming with me.”

“What are you-”

Eddie soldiers on, ignoring Buck’s protests as he steers him to his truck and opens the passenger door for him. While Eddie spent the last year putting on muscles, he’s under no illusion that he could physically force Buck to do anything if the other man was actually digging his heels in the ground.

But that's the damndest thing about Buck: even this exhausted and frayed, he’s never been good at saying _no_ to Eddie.

“Get in,” Eddie demands. He sounds like a dick to his own ears, so to Buck, Eddie must be acting positively medieval. “ _Please_.”

“Wha-”

“Please, Buck, get in _._ ”

For a moment, Buck searches his eyes. 

Eddie doesn’t like it, the scrutiny, the weird unbalance. Between them, Buck’s the open book and Eddie’s the emotionally constipated one. It works, somehow. Moments of perfect understanding, followed by earth shattering miscommunication, and moments Eddie can’t classify, because between hoping and lying to yourself, it’s a pretty thin line he’s not eager to cross. 

Whatever Buck finds, his shoulders sag from it and he mutters something that Eddie doesn’t catch, too low and grumbly, but he still climbs in, slamming the passenger seat door. 

Eddie doesn’t care: Buck can put on an act if that suits him, Eddie knows better. Buck doesn’t go anywhere he doesn’t want to.

Buck knows it too, which is probably why he gives Eddie the silent treatment for the first part of the ride to his house.

Then they hit traffic.

“Asshole!!” Eddie shouts after a shiny Lamborghini cuts them off. “Fucking asshole, I _hate this fucking city sometimes_ ,” he mutters to himself, checking the road for another fucker with more money than common sense.

“ _Then why are you staying?_ ” The question takes Eddie aback, just as much as the venom in it.

He glances at Buck still closed off face for a second before refocusing on the road. He can’t afford to be distracted right now, not when he’s bone deep tired and LA has some of the worst drivers in the entire country.

“Because- _because_ ,” he fails to elaborate. This is his home now, even if he’ll never get the one he wants to share it with. Eddie can compromise, can suffer in silence. Nothing new under the sun. 

Buck doesn’t comment on his pitiful answers, just shakes his head and retreats to his surly silence.

“I left everything I had before because I was scared. ‘m not doing it again," Eddie confesses, hands going tense around the wheel, eyes glued to the road. _I'm not Abby or Ali,_ he means.

He can feel the weight of Buck’s eyes on the side of his face, but he doesn’t elaborate.

***

When they get to Eddie’s, they haven't spoken a word to each other since that exchange. Chris is thankfully with Abuela, which makes this so much easier. He can feel the possibility of a future fight between them getting sharper and sharper and they don't need an audience. 

Buck’s phone rings as they make their way to the front door and he answers quickly.

“Hey Bobby what’s up? Is something-” he stops, listening, Eddie waiting by the open door for Buck to step in before going in himself. He doesn’t miss the exasperation on Buck’s face as he gets in, toeing his shoes off by rack. “-no no, I’m okay. Well. _Eddie kidnapped me_. Send Athena ASAP he’s probably gonna murder me or something,” Buck jokes without any joy in it, dumping his bag by the couch.

_Or something._

And now isn’t the time for Eddie’s heart to yearn damn it, but he loves Buck carelessly moving around his house, throwing his jacket over the back of a chair, shuffling around a pile of drawings, phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder, like him belonging here and making small, everyday messes is a no brainer.

On the phone, Buck continues, “I don’t know! He’s looking veryyyy cross right now,” he vaguely gestures at Eddie, not actually looking at him. “So yes, I’m serious about the whole murder thing- Bobby?” he stops, taking his phone off his ear, eyes going round when he realizes Bobby hung up on him. “Rude.”

He stares at the kitchen for a second, ignoring Eddie on purpose, shoulders slumped and posture wrong, _weak_ , making him lose a few inches. 

Eddie hates when Buck makes himself small.

“Murdering you is on the table,” Eddie lies. What he wants to do is make sure Buck doesn’t spiral out of control after the night. He took Red’s death like some kind of warning, a ghost of Christmas yet to come and with the woman that ghost him back in town… it’s gotta be rough.

Buck just huffs. “Can I eat something before you get around that? I ate a stale power bar at some point but-” he trails off. Neither of them had time for a break during that call.

Eddie’s stomach growls too and he nods, emptying his pockets, keys, phone, wallet, before taking his jacket and shoes off. He yawns and asks, “you can make pancakes? With the beacon in?”

Buck rolls his eyes. “Make pancakes, _please_.”

And yeah okay, he deserves that. “Buck can you make pancakes, please?” he asks again.

Buck nods. “I’m making an omelet.”

***

Eddie’s sitting in his kitchen, watching Buck beat the shit out of six eggs and cut tomatoes like he’s axing through a door.

The pan goes next, near slammed on the stove-top, a dire contrast with Buck’s usual good natured mood when he's cooking in this kitchen. Eddie’s used to Buck singing along whatever disjointed Spotify playlist he swears by, or him making jokes about Eddie’s inability to cook with a fond smile on his face.

Eddie a spoiled little fuck, he knows.

Evan Buckley being all domestic in a kitchen is a sight to behold and not for the faint of heart. Today… today’s not that. Sure Buck’s careless sometimes, surprised when he breaks stuff and always apologizing too much with his big blue eyes round with puppy shame, but this is different. This is anger without outlet, without direction. This is… this is Abby.

The sour lemon of jealousy in Eddie’s throat is hard to swallow down. All this for a woman that left Buck behind without a look back? (Eddie wishes he couldn’t relate, but Shannon did have that effect on him too when she came back). It’s like a cosmic joke still. He’s jealous of a woman that’s not even doing anything, not going after Buck, not stealing him away… but still puts him in this miserable state, still has him by the heart strings.

Eddie, he realizes, is pissed at Buck for still feeling for her and wanting her back.

The beaten eggs and butchered tomatoes get thrown in the sizzling pan and Buck continues passing his anger on it, the omelet soon turned into shapeless scrambled eggs.

Eddie feels he should say something. _ANYTHING_.

“You’re better off without her,” he throws, eyeing Buck’s hands around the spatula and the pan handle go white-knuckled at his words.

Buck slams the spatula down on the work plan by the stove, not looking at him. “Fuck you,” he says shoulders so tense his t-shirt is crying. Eddie has never heard someone use those words to beg for mercy before.

Which, okay. Despite all the hell she put Buck through, apparently he’s still not ready or angry enough to hear Eddie’s honest opinion. “She burned through her mid life crisis with you, then left and ghosted you and never came back. Just laying down the facts,” Eddie insists. 

“You weren’t kidding about murdering me,” Buck breaths.

“ _You deserve more than that_ , more than what she did. What Ali did.”

Buck turns off the stove, turns around and puts the pan on the table mat, ignoring Eddie’s words and eyes like it’s a matter of life or death. 

He’s all care now, opening drawers for cutlery without tearing it off the bottom cupboards like someone would go at dismembering someone, moving around the kitchen for tissue napkins and glasses in weird silence, anger gone somewhere Eddie feels like he should go search for it. Picking a fight with his best friend shouldn’t be his priority right now -never, really- but... jealousy really is a bitch. Eddie doesn’t need Buck angry, not really, but just needs to hear Buck say she was in the wrong.

Well. _Just need._ That’s bullshit. He needs Buck to know it. To believe it. 

Eddie’s handed a fork and he mechanically takes it, looking warily as Buck crumbles on the chair beside him, strings cut now that the routine of preparing breakfast isn’t there to hold him up.

He’s so close, too close, way too close, dangerously so, knees bumping together and Eddie’s forced to open his legs a little so Buck has enough room for his stupid long legs. 

Which he would have had if he had sat across the table. Problem is, while Buck’s smart most of the time, he’s always doing this kind of shit, pushing himself right into Eddie’s space - _Eddie’s life_ \- always too close and right in his face, never managing Eddie's hunger for him and completely blind and ignorant to it.

Buck’s head hits the table, one, two, three times and Eddie lets him, shaking his own, pissed at Buck, at Abby, at Ali, at whoever had Buck before and dumped him. Eddie wants to have him in ways that he can’t, but if he could, he would never let him go.

Except he did. _I did, I did, I did, I-_ he’s pissed at himself now too, right here in his kitchen with Buck falling apart with a murdered omelet as only distraction. Why the ever loving fuck did he let Buck and Bobby’s fighting during the lawsuit get to _him_ , to _them?_

_Because you’re a good soldier that obeys._

_Because you were drowning and hurting and you took it all out on Buck because for once in your relationship, he wasn’t there for you._

The weird mix of Frank’s observations and his own self loathing isn’t really welcomed, but Eddie has enough therapy hours under his belt now to know acknowledging past mistakes isn’t always easy or pretty.

He uses the table mat to get the hot pan in between them and not in the middle of the table, hungry and needing a distraction, nudging Buck with his knee because he needs to eat.

“Eat. We can fight after.” And yes, he’s aware how ridiculous he sounds. He’ll blame it on the 24 hour shift and the stress of the train crash.

“I don’t want to fight!” Buck shouts from where he’s still hiding in his crossed arms, hitting his head on the table once again, before sniffling.

And fuck no. Eddie can’t be around when Buck cries, because- _because_.

(it has something to do with the raw need to puts his hands on Buck’s cheeks, to hold him, precious and cared for, to wipe his tears with his thumbs; he can almost feel Buck’s forehead under his lips, kissing his brow, his temple, his hair, whispering comfort and assurances and holding him close)

“It will happen,” Eddie throws at him, forcing his eyes closed when Buck’s begins bouncing his leg nervously, knee rubbing against his thigh every second. Eddie exhales and reopens his eyes, set on ignoring that point of maddening contact. “You could have died,” he snarls, forking a piece of tomato with too much force, before popping it in his mouth and aggressively chewing it. “And for who? _Abby’s_ fiancé.”

Buck looks up and shakes his head, biting his lip for a moment. His eyes are a little bit red, but at least they’re dry. Ish. “I would have still gone with my plan without Abby factoring in.”

“So you’ve been trampling around my kitchen for the last ten minutes over, what exactly?” Eddie challenges.

“Nothing- it’s just-” Buck is gaping, words failing him, hands and arms flying helplessly around him. “I’ve- I’ve waited, you know.”

“I was there. I remember,” Eddie assures him.

It was before Shannon came back, and Eddie had been seriously considering pushing Buck against the nearest surface to try and fuck his sad face away. God why didn’t he do just that? Would have saved them heartache and- _Buck’s straight,_ he reminds himself ruthlessly, biting his inner cheek as punishment for forgetting his silly fantasies aren’t real life.

“And she never came back!” Buck’s knuckles are white around the fork he’s griping, staring at the wall above Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie nods, “And went on with her life.”

“She can have a family with him,” Buck chocks on the words, completely throwing off Eddie.

Calling Buck reckless, shouting at him a little, segueing on calling Abby a selfish bitch he can do. Best friend prerogative and all that. _This?_ Buck so small and hurting because he’s alone and abandoned by everyone he loves? Not so much. Best friend with unrequited feelings prerogative and all that. Because his only words of reassurance would be _I’m here. I feel for you. I won’t let go_ , and that’s just… not what Buck wants or needs to hear.

“If it’s that- she’s blind,” Eddie says, choking up a little, too much truth in the words he’s gonna say. “Believe me when I say you strike everyone within a twenty miles radius of you as a family man.”

“‘m not,” Buck says, eyes downcast, stabbing the fork on the table. Careless. At home. _Blind._

Eddie knocks their knees together, none too gently this time. “Chris is waking up crying right now and he doesn’t know why,” he says, feeling like he just threw a harpoon at Buck’s flank.

Buck startles, deep worry blooming on his face like a bruise, proving Eddie’s point so easily it’s laughable. “Uh? _What-_ ” 

_Yeah right, not a family man._

“Look at you, you take care of him and love him like he’s your own. No wonder Chris believes the sun shines outta of your ass,” Eddie shakes his head, playing with a bit of tomato in the pan, because it’s not safe to look at Buck right now. He and Chris both want things they can't have, and it’s a four letter word that hurts like a motherfucker. “You literally told me you want the whole picket fence thing.”

“ _I was drunk!_ ” Buck whines, hiding his face behind his hand, fingers rubbing at his eyes.

Eddie shrugs. “You’re a family man. Anyone running away from that is batshit crazy,” he assures him, too raw, too… earnest. _Fuck this_. He focuses on the pan in between them, eating as much as he can of his half before he looks back up.

Buck’s watching him now, frowning, Eddie a weird shaped puzzle piece that Buck’s determined to figure out.

_Fuck fuck fuck._

“Eat,” Eddie urges him.

“‘m not hungry.”

Eddie tries to exhale the annoyance he’s near shaking with. Why did he have to make friends with a man that is more stubborn than he is.

“Suit yourself.” Eddie’s done with him for now, argument hedging in dangerous water he doesn’t want to sail on.

He barely moves the pan an inch closer to his side that Buck tugs back at it, hand firmly on the handle. “Wait-”

“You’re impossible,” Eddie growls. _He is_. “And we’re not done talking about that stun you pulled on the train. What am I supposed to do if you freaking die on me?”

This is the heart of the problem. Eddie… Eddie would be heartbroken if Buck was to date someone, but he could take it. But losing Buck completely? No. just… _no._

(The tightness in his chest at the mere idea is enough pain, thank you very much)

Buck swallows around the bit of omelet he was chewing on without enthusiasm. Again, he throws Eddie completely off. “The English teacher, obviously.” He says it like it’s a done thing really, already pissed off by it. 

And that- that enrages Eddie to no end. “Fuck you.”

“What, once you stop all the repressed crying after my funeral-” Buck mocks and Eddie points at him with the fork, “-no I’m serious Eddie, think about all the time you waste hanging out around with me, now dedicated to getting back in the saddle.”

“Again, fuck you. My time isn’t wasted with you. And that’s- you know that’s bullshit, right? You die, I’ll-” Eddie stops, just the idea of it ruining him. “Fuck you.”

And oh, now Eddie’s doing it too, begging with those words, unbearable dread clawing at his throat, breathing difficult now.

Buck gulps, shame taking over. “I shouldn’t- you know I don’t- sometimes I forget-” he doesn’t finish, eyes not meeting Eddie’s.

“What?”

“You guys have people at home-”

“‘cause you don’t? Bullshit.”

“Nice bedside manner, Eds” he says.

“Sorry, all the sugar coating I’m capable of is used up for the day. I had to watch you rappelling down a fucking train car that was near collapsing the entire time. You dying would _destroy me._ I know you’ve been going through some stuff because of your girlfriends running out on you for no goddamn reason; and Red’s life gave you a major case of existential dread, but- you can’t- you can’t do this shit because you think your life has no value.”

Buck reels back in his chair, eyes on Eddie now, and full of hurt. “Thank- thank you Eddie, I really needed that,” he says weakly. “And, honestly? That’s rich coming from someone that cut his own life line not a fucking month ago. I still have nightmares of it going slack in my hands,” Buck throws back at his face.

Eddie’s the one to look away this time. He deserves that. _Hell, more than that_.

“I know, okay. Trust me I’m not proud of it. And I never- I never said you were at fault about Abby or Ali or… anything,” Eddie swallows, mouth dry. What a fucking idiot he is. “You’re-” fucking _it_ . _Fucking crazy and soft, fucking annoying in the best way, fucking too caring for your own good, and loyal and clever and loving and so fucking hot._ Fucking _it_.

_Fucking hang up on your ex._

_Fucking straight too._

Sometimes Eddie forgets Buck wasn’t made for him, that he just seems to be. 

“I’m what?” Buck prompts, still giving Eddie the weird puzzle piece look.

“ _My best friend_. I don’t want to see you hurting over that-” he breaths out, not saying the word. “Over Abby. Or being reckless because this job is the only thing you think you have. You deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, well, better isn’t available or interested,” Buck mutters, rolling his eyes.

 _And what?_ “What?”

Buck blushes so hard Eddie goes to a little woozy just looking at him, _shit_ written on his face. 

“Shut up,” he tells Eddie, shaking his head and avoiding his eyes.

“No, seriously, what?” Eddie presses. “Who’s better?”

“ _Not important_.”

“Of course it is! Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“It’s nothing,” Buck says, shoving the last piece of breakfast in his mouth and standing up to bring the pan and his fork to the sink.

“It’s- it’s not nothing. Buck, what the fuck? _Who?_ ”

Who’s dumb enough to not be interested in Buck?! Eddie racks his brain for anyone new, anyone Buck’s been around more recently, or showing interest in. He isn’t a subtle man, but Eddie comes up short.

Buck turns back to him, on the offensive now. “Oh my God, why are you so angry about stuff like this?!” he throws back. “You’re worse than a jealous girlfriend.”

And _shit, shit, shit_ , Eddie’s freezes, caught in the headlights of Buck’s eyes and the slow realization in them.

“Eddie-”

“No- don’t-” he stammers, getting up. _Jesus what did I do!?_ he curses himself, taking a step back when Buck takes one closer, stumbling on his chair and nearly falling on his ass. “You should go.”

“You’re the one that dragged me here!” Buck throws back, eyes wild, “I’m not leaving until-”

Eddie leaves the kitchen, running away, _what he does best, just ask Shannon_ , brain melting out of his ears. What the ever loving fuck did he just do?!

“Eddie c’mon what are-”

And Eddie was right, you can’t move Buck if Buck doesn't want to be moved. But Buck can definitively move Eddie. He’s not exactly slammed against the corridor wall, but it feels like it, despite Buck’s gentle hands on his shoulders. “Talk to me, Eddie,” he asks.

He shakes his head, carefully avoiding Buck’s eyes. All he wanted was to make sure Buck was good after last night, that he was taken care of and reminded that he wasn’t a fucking island. He didn’t plan for his feelings being exposed cause he can’t be happy (or pretend to) that Buck’s into someone else's like a normal pinning idiot. “No.”

“Shout at me for being reckless then. You can even call me dumb. But don’t shut me out,” he says, too close to begging for Eddie’s comfort, an echo of their conversation on Halloween when Eddie was still making Buck pay for stuff out of his control.

“ _You’re not dumb_. You’re plan was- good.”

Buck chuckles. “I know.” His hands are still on Eddie, his eyes are still searching for his eyes.

“Good,” Eddie says weakly, he can barely breath. God fucking knows Buck’s not good at hiding the hurt when someone makes a joke about his intelligence.

“This conversation is stupid though,” Buck remarks, fingers digging a little bit more in Eddie’s shoulders, holding him in place against the wall, even if Eddie didn’t make a move to dislodge him. His brain is fried by his own stupidity and Buck’s proximity. 

“I know. I’m just- exhausted.” _Please chalk this up at me being stupidly tired, please, please, please_.

“Same.” Buck sighs and Eddie relaxes. He’s off the hook then. “Are you jealous?”

Okay perhaps not. Eddie stays silent. This isn’t the fight he craved to burn through his jealousy and fear of losing Buck to the job or to someone else.

“ _Are you jealous?_ ” Buck repeats.

Eddie works his jaw, words piling up in his mouth like a car crash, in his throat, in his lungs, choking him.

“Are you still in love with her?” he lets out, and that’s enough of an answer to Buck’s question he knows, but he can’t help it.

“What? Who? _Abby?_ Fucking-”, Buck grunts, head hanging low between them, his curly blond hair brushing Eddie’s chest. “Eddie, I’m mad at her! I’m mad at myself, mostly,” he says, straightening up. “And I’m getting mad at you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yes, it does. She left me and I waited and waited and I should have known she wasn’t coming back. And I’m mad at you right now, cause I just realized that you're- you’re jealous,” he whispers, in- awe? but no, that’s just Eddie imagining things. He’s good at that too, just ask Shannon. “You’re jealous and you- _you like me_.”

Eddie shakes his head. Denying it feels useless, but he can’t help it. “Let me go then,” he demands, “you can be mad at me from your apartment and-”

“Not mad like that!” Buck cuts, getting in his face, inches apart now. “It’s just- I’ve been stuck for years, going crazy... I thought I was imagining things. I’m not in love with Abby, I haven’t been for a long time. _And I didn’t know you were available or interested_.”

Eddie chances a look at Buck’s eyes and immediately looks away. What he sees in them is just… not possible. Eddie never was more than a disappointment, never been enough for someone to be looked at like that.

“What are you even saying?” The words run out of him like a whimper, the tell tale pinpricks of tears in his eyes making him wince.

“That you should talk to Frank about your tendency to substitute communication with fighting. I blame your marriage. And your parents,” Buck says, anger back from wherever it went earlier. “Mostly your parents, actually.”

“I don’t see-”

“I like you,” Buck whispers, before knocking their foreheads together and he stays there, a breath away from Eddie’s lips and absolutely destroying him with that gesture alone. “Too damn much,” he finishes.

Eddie has no choice but to look at him then. This close, Buck looks ragged to the bone, circles under his eyes bruised. Close to breaking. 

“You don’t,” he persists, voice croaking weakly, because this isn’t his life. “You’re- you’re straight.” 

“I do. I thought I was. Pretty tough thing to be with you around. And I thought you were straight too. Obviously I misread that one,” Buck says self depreciating to boot.

Eddie’s fucking speechless and Buck’s- Buck’s way too close, messing with his head.

“You can be such an emotionally constipated asshole sometimes,” Buck says eventually, hands letting go of him, warmth leaving Eddie. He takes a step back, _inches apart_ turning into feet. He’s blinking fast, working himself to something.“I’m- I’m beaten. And getting pissed at you for real. I’m taking an Uber home.”

 _Feet apart_ turns into yards _._ And Eddie lets him go.

He hears the front door close and stays there, knocking the back of his head against the wall more than once.

“I’m a fucking idiot,” he groans.

He’s still holding the damn fork he ate with, right hand painfully clenched around it. Before he can find the strength to get himself to his bed to collapse, the front door opens again, slams shut and Buck’s running back to him, fuming now. 

“You are an idiot,” he accuses, before taking Eddie’s face in his hands and smashing their faces together in the most aggressive kiss Eddie ever had.

His brain crashes and burns, Eddie too stunned, too wrecked, too- _too something!_ It takes him a second to answer in kind, but when he does, he holds nothing back.

Everything could be burning around them; an earthquake could be wrecking his house and the entire city he wouldn’t notice. Eddie feels drunk, consumed, _alive_ . Lips and teeth and hands on Buck, _Buck, Buck, Buck,_ pushing him against the other wall of the corridor, only moving him because Buck wants to be moved. 

_I’m kissing Buck, fucking hell, I’m kissing Buck._

One of Buck’s hands is still on his cheek, but the other is on Eddie’s neck, thumb digging lightly at his pulse point, whining into the kiss, glorious and demanding, hips pushing against Eddie’s, hand descending, descending, descending, stopping at the bottom of his shirt and pushing it out of the way, fingers tugging at the hem of his jeans, forcing his hips closer and- fuck, the _friction!_ Both of them are getting harder by the second, and Eddie fucking wants-

Suddenly Buck pushes him away, breath ragged.

Eddie doesn’t want to stop this, but he goes, letting himself crumble against the wall opposite of Buck, wrecked and needing more. He lost his teddy bear of a fork sometimes during- _that._

“I’m not ruining this,” Buck pants, making no sense to Eddie’s addled brain.

Eddie frowns at him. “What?”

“I’m not- I want more than an angry hook up because you’re jealous and I’m mad. I lo-” he stops like a car at full speed stops into another, Eddie’s heart giving out with the aborted words and declaration. “ _This is fucking important for me_. My Uber’s- it’s here- phone keeps buzzing,” he explains, passing a hand in his hair, trying to regain his calm and that’s- that’s not what Eddie wants.

Eddie sputters after him, “ _You’re- you’re still going?_ ” 

Buck stops, turns around and kisses him again, as hungry and desperate, lips and teeth, and _yes_ , that’s more like it. Eddie’s hands fall on his hips, trying to get him to stay, sucking at his bottom lip, nipping at it, needing-

“Yeah. I’m not- I told you. I can’t ruin this, Eddie,” he says against his lips, before kissing Eddie again, this time achingly sweet and careful. “I need sleep. And- and space.”

“You can sleep on the couch,” Eddie begs.

Buck closes his eyes, like he’s bracing himself, but his lips are still against Eddie’s. “I won’t sleep on the couch and you know it.”

Images pop into Eddie’s head and okay. Okay. The world could burn, the ground could shake. He wouldn’t care.

“Then- then don’t. _Stay_.”

“I’m- I’m-” 

Eddie kisses him and it’s good to be the one starting it, hands on his cheeks, trying to convey how precious Buck is to him with every nip of his lips, every swipe of his tongue. “Stay,” he repeats, like a prayer, rubbing their noses together.

“You’re such an asshole,” Buck mutters against his lips, not moving, not stopping him when Eddie kisses him again, _kissing him back_.

“I know. Please-”

The front door opens and Eddie frowns, what kind of Uber did Buck order-

“DAD!” Chris calls from the front of the house, effectively separating Buck and Eddie before he can see them.

“Hey Eddie! Just passing through!” Carla says just as loud, “But there’s an Uber waiting by the driveway? And getting real impatient.”

“Fuck,” they both whispers.

“We need to-” Buck closes his eyes, frustration radiating from him.

“Finish this later, yeah, yeah,” Eddie continues, taking a few more breaths before he steps out of the corridor and into the kitchen, where Carla is surveying the mess in the sink and the counter where Buck butchered the tomatoes and abandoned the eggshells like so many bodies.

“Hey Eddie,” she says looking at him up and down with kind, worried eyes, before she brightens when Buck enters behind him. “And Buckaroo too. Uh, hard night?”

“There was a train crash,” Eddie explains, voice low, images of the wreckage and its victims flashing before his eyes.

“Oooh, okay,” she says, face going so soft. “I saw that on the news this morning. _Shouldn’t you two be sleeping?_ I’m just here to fetch Chris’ math homework before school, because someone forgot it here last night.”

Eddie chuckles. Last night had been hectic and they were running late to get to Abuela.

Chris makes his way in the kitchen, a huge smile breaking on his face when he catches sight of Eddie. That warms his heart like nothing else and he takes his son in his arms, hugging him tight.

“Hey mijo,” he says, burying his face in his kid’s hair.

“Hey dad! Hey Buck!” and God, Chris’s always so bright and sweet.

“Hey superman,” Buck greets, ruffling his hair, front half pressed to Eddie’s back to get to Chris.

“We need to get a move on Chris if you don’t want to be late for school,” Carla reminds him. “And that uber driver was really getting angry at you Buckaroo.”

“Okayyyyyyy,” Chris says, hugging Eddie once more, before he puts him down. “Bye dad! Bye Buck!”

“I’ll see you tonight, mijo.”

Carla and Chris leave, letting them in the kitchen, alone again. 

“I should go too,” Buck breathes. “I need- I need to sleep and wrap my head around- stuff.”

Eddie’s not happy about that, but- he can’t act crazy. He still hasn’t actually acknowledged out loud he has feelings for Buck for fuck’s sake.

“Fine. You’re coming back, right?” Buck doesn’t answer so Eddie turns around, heart in his throat. Buck told him he _liked him._ Wanted him. Kissed him. He can’t change his mind like that. “Buck?”

Buck shakes his head. “We need to talk. But I can’t do that now. I need- I need to talk to her first. Get closure. And you- you need to still be there. When I’m ready to talk this out.”

“I’ve been,” Eddie reminds him. “Buck, this entire time I’ve been here.”

“I know. I’m just- It’s a lot to lose if we mess up.”

Eddie nods, acutely understanding what he means, but still hurting. In his wildest imagination, this isn’t how it went. No, when Eddie was dreaming of this, in weak moments where he allowed himself the fantasy of getting and keeping Buck, they would come together easily, without pain or anger, just looking at each other and knowing. Simple, easy love.

“I’ll see you when I see you,” he manages to say, not pushing even if he wants to. “I’ll be here. I told you -in the car I mean. I’m not running away. Not from you.”

Buck wipes down a tear from his cheek, jaw flexing, and approaches him slowly. His lips are dry and chapped on Eddie’s, but he doesn’t care, taking his fill, needing more, needing Buck to stay. 

The kiss is… bitter. Scared. Hopeful. On both sides. Demands and promises, hopes and fear mixed.

When Buck steps away, he’s not looking at Eddie. “I’ll come by… tonight? Or tomorrow. I’ll text.”

“Okay,” Eddie croaks. “I- I have- I-I- shit Buck, what I feel for you- _like_ doesn't-”

“It doesn’t cover it,” he finishes for him, a shy smile on his lips, eyes crinkling as he takes Eddie’s cheek in his hand. “I’m glad. I know right now, it’s- I’m- It’s complicated for me too, okay? To say-”

Baggages and baggages and baggages. A whole airport worth of them. They have that in common.

“We’ll talk.”

“Yeah,” Eddie forces out.

Buck’s out of the house quickly, hunted down by Eddie’s eyes, probably feeling the weight of them as he passes his hand on his neck.

Eddie exhales when the door closes softly behind Buck, nothing holding him up now and he collapses on a chair.

“Fucking shit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you loved it, kudos and comments are ALWAYS a good way to show it, here, on [tumblr](http://theleftboobgrabber.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/AngryGuii)! Check my [fic tag](https://theleftboobgrabber.tumblr.com/tagged/w) for updates and rambling :)
> 
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